


Navigating By Starlight

by Cân Cennau (cancennau)



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Autistic Hermann Gottlieb, Autistic Newton Geiszler, Bickering, Crossover, Disabled Hermann Gottlieb, Dragons, Intersex Hermann Gottlieb, M/M, Plotting, Road Trips, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Trans Hermann Gottlieb, Trans Newton Geiszler, essentially a big medieval roadtrip where these gays get to fall in love, plus dragons - Freeform, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2019-06-29 17:40:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15734262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cancennau/pseuds/C%C3%A2n%20Cennau
Summary: Newt-of-Nine-Tails, dragon expert and all-round scoundrel, wants out of the Thieves Guild. But when an opportunity to leave falls into his lap, Newt has no idea how much trouble he'll be getting into. Escorting the mage son of an Imperator can't be that difficult, can it?A Pacific Rim/Skyrim AU





	1. Chapter 1

It would not be too inaccurate to say that Skyrim, as a province, was cold.

It was far colder than any of its neighboring provinces in Tamriel. Not even the province High Rock, known for its high rocks, was as cold. The land was mountainous and often snowy up in the northern-eastern reaches, and muggy and wet in the places not covered by snow. Only its native human inhabitants - the cold-toned Nords and those Bretons left over from war - found this in any way pleasing, though their innate resistance to cold took the bitter edge off the frosty weather. The natives of neighboring provinces found it all very drab and dreary - the dark Redguard and olivine Imperial races rarely ascended into the colder regions, whilst the elven races of woody Bosmer and celadon Altmer rarely ascended into Skyrim at all. The beastial Orsimer, feline Khajiit and the lizard-like Saxhleel did not complain too much of the weather - their tough hides took the brunt of it - but they found the social niceties of the native people… lacking. Had a volcanic eruption not forced the grey-skinned Dunmer to flee from their homeland, they would not have given Skyrim a second glance.

That was not to say Skyrim was inhospitable to anyone who was not native - even the Nords had some kind of coping mechanism to handle the harsh weather. There was not a place in Skyrim where you could not buy some sort of fur, be it wolf or elk in origin. The harsh, mountainous terrain had been carved into by brick roads and dirt track, which made it navigable, even if it wasn’t easy to traverse. There had even been a boom in the breeding of horses for travel - strong, hardy and with wide hooves to spread weight evenly over snow, Skyrim’s horses were a sight to see. Many a person had made money from these horses, be they breeders, trainers or simply coachmen, who offered their horse-and-carts out for hire to those unwilling to trek the dangerous roads on foot.

And the roads were truly dangerous. Wolves and giant spiders roamed freely within the wilderness, as did Forsworn bandits and, up in the wide open skies, dragons. For those who wandered off the beaten tracks, there were sabre cats, trolls and sharp-toothed slaughterfish to watch out for. The more wealthy visitors to Skyrim had more to fear - the Dark Brotherhood assassins lurked around every corner, and there were always opportunistic members of the Thieves Guild waiting for an unobservant visitor to round a corner.

It is with the Thieves Guild that this story unfolds. On a dark, frigid evening, a horse-and-cart made its way up through the forested hillside on the north-eastern roads, between the cities of Morthal and Solitude. This was a regular route for the Thieves Guild - not that the two aforementioned cities liked to admit - and today was no different, for sat in the back of the cart were two Saxhleel men, both dressed in light brown armour, a uniform that was instantly recognizable by those in the know as that of the Thieves Guild. One was fast asleep, his blueish scaled muzzle nestled in the cowled neck of his hood. The other, a greyish-mauve in colour, watched him with barely concealed exasperation. As they crested the hill and trundled ever onwards, the greyish-mauve Saxhleel man gave the sleeping one a sharp kick in the shin, startling him.

“Whussat?” he asked in a croaky voice. “Whussup, where’re we-”

“We’re nearly at Solitude, Newt.” his companion said, moving his feet back. “Just passed Dragon’s Bridge.”

“Dragon’s Bridge?” Newt rubbed his eyes and suddenly seemed far more awake. “For Divines sake, Deekus, why didn’t you wake me before? You knew I’ve always wanted to see Dragon’s Bridge-”

“It was too dark to see anything.” Deekus shrugged. “Besides, you would’ve wanted to stop the cart there and then to go and explore.”

“Well  _ yeah _ , but-”

“No. It’s the middle of the night, and not even we are brazen enough to go wandering around a strange place at night.”

Newt sighed. “Fine. I’ll go in the morning.”

“Good.” Deekus was silent for a while, looking out over the landscape as the cart rattled its way along the cobblestone path. His clawed hands scratched absentmindedly at the crest of ice blue feathers. Newt followed his gaze, and looked out across the darkened landscape of Skyrim, down the steep chiasm of the cliffside across to the dim pin pricks of hamlet towns nestled in the rolling landscape. For once, the skies above were clear, showing off the stunning gleam of stars and glow of the polar lights. Somewhere in the distance, a dragon roared.

“Why are you heading to Solitude, anyway?” Deekus asked, after a while. “I thought your job was in Windhelm.”

“It is. I’m just… taking a detour.”

“A massive forty-mile detour in the wrong direction?”

“I’m... taking my time on this one. It’s not a ‘do this right now or die’ kind of job, it’s only a shill. I can take a break-”

“A break.” Deekus looked at him, unimpressed. “How long a break?”

“Maybe two weeks or something, I don’t know.”

“Newt-Of-Nine-Tails, you’re not thinking of leaving the Guild? Because seriously,  _ two weeks- _ ”

“I… maybe? I don’t know! It’s just… everything the guild gives me now is  _ boring _ , you know? It was fun before, but now it’s just… taking things for the sake of taking them. I need a break, man.”

“Hmm.” Deekus looked at him appraisingly. “And you’d give it all up cause it’s  _ boring _ ? Even the dragon parts we’ve been smuggling in? I know how much you love them-”

“I don’t love them, I  _ study  _ them.”

“You won’t get to study them outside the Guild-”

“I know, but even then… We’re not even getting the  _ good  _ dragon parts. I mean, where have the days gone where our contact - Hannibal, wasn’t that his name? - where he could get us dragon brains at a snap of our fingers? We couldn’t even get a  _ claw  _ at this rate- it’s not even worth staying at this rate.”

“You are the best lockpicker this side of Tamriel, at least. Don’t waste your talents in some run down old market or something-”

“Oh hell no.” Newt scrunched up his nose. “Gross, can you imagine me selling things? Nah, I was thinking maybe adventurer or something-”

“On your own? Newt, you can barely look after yourself most days - if you’re not with someone checking up on you, you’d be a wreck.”

“I wouldn’t-”

Deekus gave him a look.”

“Yeah, alright,  _ maybe  _ I’d struggle, just don’t rub it in my face okay-”

Deekus rolled his eyes. “Look, here - you want a break, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve got a better idea. Switch jobs with me.”

“What? Why?”

“Just take it, would you? You’ll like this one.” He fished around in the many pockets of his armour, until he extracted a small piece of paper from one of the smallest ones. He handed it to Newt, who took it and unfolded it with a frown.

“‘Our client requests a guide to…’” Newt paused. “A guide? This doesn’t sound like our kind of job, Deekus. Who hires a thief as a guide?”

“It’s… it’s part of a bigger plan. Read the rest of it.”

“Alright, alright. ‘A guide to escort my son, Hermann Gottlieb’- Hey, that’s the mage who predicts the dragon attacks, right? The enchanter. He enchants weapons for the Blades, dragon hunters-”

“That’s him.”

“Wasn’t there like a huge row between him and his father because his father thought trusting the Thalmor was more viable than trusting the Blades-”

“This is to do with that. Keep reading.”

“But-”

“Keep. Reading.”

“Escort my son, Hermann Gottlieb, to our friends in the hills of Falkreath-” Newt was about to stop and ask who that was, but he felt Deekus might actually kill him if he stopped once more so he continued. “Your payment will be released after proof of my son’s successful deliverance has been sent by courier, blah blah blah… do not take any carriages or boats, yada yada yada… I expect this to take no longer than two weeks. Sincerely, Imperator Lars Gottlieb.’”

“Sounds like a holiday, right? Hermann will be able to keep you in check, and you get your two week break. You won’t even need to look after the guy that much.”

“Two week break with another dragon expert? Sounds too good to be true.” Newt read through the contract once more. “Man, did Lars Gottlieb really just send his son away for disagreeing with him? Everyone knows the Thalmor’s Ward Wall he’s so fond of won’t work-”

“I’m not here to question Lars Gottlieb’s questionable beliefs.” Deekus interrupted before Newt could go into one of his rants about how terrible the Ward Wall was. “I’m here for the job. You in?”

“This is so weird. I’m definitely in.”

“Good.” Deekus settled back into his seat with a self-satisfied grin. “Oh, by the way, you’ll have to ditch your Guild uniform - you’ll be recognized.”

“And there’s the catch.” Newt sighed. “I don’t suppose the disguise is as comfortable?”

Deekus grinned in reply.


	2. Chapter 2

The disguise was horrible.

It was itchy and smelt weird and Newt hated it the moment he put it on. It was made of leather and fur, far lighter that what he was used to, but that wasn’t what bothered him most. No, it was that the fur sat underneath everything, acting as some truly unneeded insulation. Skyrim was cold, but it was the middle of summer, and even the guards had shrugged off their masked helmets for more open faced ones. Newt had flatly refused to wear the helmet that went with the armour, and chose his daggers over the sword and shield Deekus tried to hand him, but even so; under the blue skies of Solitude, he was sweltering already. 

Lars Gottlieb had requested they meet in the courtyard of the great fort that sat in the middle of Solitude, at mid-afternoon. For once in his life, Newt had aimed to be punctual, and had gotten there just as afternoon mass at the local temple broke up. He had already told the Imperial guards that he had arrived and was waiting, and they’d gone to fetch him. Apparently there was an important meeting taking place and Lars sends his apologies but could he possibly wait for a while? The cold mead they brought him as a token of apology -  _ chilled by the finest ice from Winterhold _ , the guard had said with a wink - made the wait somewhat tolerable, but still. 

The sun was setting when Newt heard the sound of horse's hooves approach the courtyard. He picked himself up from the bottom of the pillar where he’d been sat, and looked out towards the entryway. The sounds of a horse came closer and closer, and along with it the sound of two people arguing.

“Father, reconsider your position-”

“No. The High Queen, she has put her support behind the Thalmor’s Ward Wall, she’ll need your enchanting expertise for it to hold-”

“There are other enchanters, plenty of them in other provinces. You know my opinion of the Wall - I’ll still offer my services to the Blades-”

“The Blades don’t have the support of the High Queen, they won’t last without her resources!”

“The Blades are our only chance against the dragons-”

“You’ll turn against what this family stands for, to chace a failing organization-”

“I’ll turn against what  _ you  _ stand for-”

They turned a corner and came into view, and suddenly stopped talking. Newt could not see any details, but could see that one was on foot, in full Imperial General armour, whilst the other rode on the back of a palomino horse. He watched as the guards hurried up to them and spoke in hushed undertones, before the elder of the two approached him.

“My apologies for keeping you waiting.” the man said, his accent heavy and inflected. “You must be Hermann’s guide.”

“That’s me.” Newt said brightly. “I’m Newt.”

“Lars Gottlieb.” They shook hands - Lars’ handshake was bone breaking, and Newt refrained from flexing his fingers after he let go. Lars was what you expected a traditional Imperial advisor to be - tall and broad in the shoulder, sharp facial features, he stood tall and proud and towered over Newt. His hair was cropped short and grey, but it didn’t make him look old - rather, it made him look tough, and Newt felt distinctly uncomfortable being the recipient of that hard stare.

“I must say… a Saxhleel mercenary was not what I expected. You’re not heavily packed, either.”

Newt frowned. “Well, if you wanted us to draw attention to ourselves-”

Lars held his hands up. “I meant no disrespect, of course. It makes sense, given…”

He trailed off, knowingly. Newt had no idea what he was hinting at, but he didn’t have time to ask - the man on the back of the horse had ridden up to him, and was reaching down a hand. 

“Hermann Gottlieb.” Lars introduced with a slightly exasperated tone. “My son.”

So this was the guy. Newt took him in as he shook his hand. Tall and wiry, but a little stooped, as if he were trying to hide something, he was exactly not what Newt expected an advisor’s son to look like. He wore classic Imperial uniform - a red tunic with a leather cuirass on top, coupled with knee-high boots. He too seemed to have foregone a helmet - his haircut was militaristic, but made him look far older than Newt thought he’d be, but the short front fringe made his sharp, narrow face all the more prominent. He had what his father would’ve called ‘old eyes’, hazeline eyes that were far more serious than they should be.

Newt thought he was cute, in a scholarly kind of way - but he got the distinct impression that he should not say that aloud lest he had a wish for Hermann to shoot him with the bow he had slung across his back.

“Good to meet you.” Newt replied, shaking his hand. “You ready to go?”

“Yes, I believe so. Father?”

Lars Gottlieb was quiet for a while. “If you’re packed.” he said, eventually. “Take care - and be careful with your-”

“I will, father.” Hermann cut across him, firmly. Newt felt like he was missing part of the bigger picture or something, but Hermann had turned his horse and was already heading towards the gates of Solitude. Newt gave Lars Gottlieb one last look before hurrying after him. 

“So, uh.” Newt said as they passed through the gates. “I guess you and Lars don’t get on very well?”

“We’ve… had a disagreement.” Hermann replied, frowning out at the horizon. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Hey, no problem.” Newt fell silent for a moment. “Though I’m totally on your side. About the Blades. And your books on dragon necromancy patterns are good.”

Hermann blinked, surprised. “Thank you?”

“If too based in theory.”

Hermann face shuttered into a frown “Excuse me?”

“I mean, seriously man. You're too trusting of your numbers and your arithmancy-”

“I- They’ve proven right so far!”

“Yeah, but you don’t take into account dragon behaviours-”

“And you know this  _ how-? _ ”

“Well I read your book. And I did write the definitive book on dragons-”

“You-” Hermann paused. “A book? Which one?”

“Well, there’s only one.  _ An Atlas of Dragon Properties and Behavioural Instincts. _ ” Hermann frowned.  


“That was written by an Imperial - by a Newton Geiszler-”

“Well, obviously I don’t write under my own name. No-one would publish an educational text by a Saxhleel. Using an Imperial name meant I got more support.”

“Hmm.” Hermann was quiet for a while. “It makes sense.”

“It makes sense because you can see my great intellect on dragons?” Newt gave him a smug grin. 

“Oh no.” Hermann smirked. “It makes sense because your disdain for arithmancy correlates to the absolutely appalling numbers work you did in your chapter on dragon growth patterns.”

“ _ Hey _ -!”


	3. Chapter 3

Hermann Gottlieb considered himself a rather worldly man, but even he was struggling to truly understand Newt-of-Nine-Tails.

From the four hours since they had met, Hermann had figured out that he was a walking, talking ball of contradictions. The Saxhleel man had a roguish look about him - dark blue scales patterned with the colours of dragon skin, which Hermann assumed he was born with, a crest of jet black feathers and a sway to his tail that just insinuated  _ trouble _ . Hermann would be lying if he didn’t admit that that was an attraction (and Divines help him if Father ever found out he found a Saxhleel man  _ attractive _ \- Hermann rather thought he’d turn the same shade of green as his Thalmor associates), but Newt was single-handedly the most aggravating man Hermann had ever met. His attention flitted and floated like summer bees - one moment he would be arguing with him about dragons, the next he would be off the road, picking fungi and other strange plants, and the next he would be inspecting Hermann’s staff strapped to his horse, and Hermann would have to bat him away before he began touching it.

Not only that, but he never seemed to  _ shut up _ .

“-so I said, ‘Why do you-’” Newt was nattering good-naturedly to the innkeeper at Dragon Bridge, who Hermann could see was struggling to hide his utter bafflement at the manic way Newt was speaking to him. Hermann rolled his eyes, and pressed one hand to Newt’s arm.

“Perhaps we can book a room?” he asked, pointedly. Newt blinked, then laughed.

“Oh yes! Sorry, I got a bit carried away…”

“That’s…. fine.” Hermann turned to the barman. “How much for two beds?”

“I’ve only got one double bed, I’m afraid. And that’s ten gold.”

“I suppose we’ll have to share, then.” Newt responded brightly. “You alright with that, Hermann?”

“I-” In fact, Hermann was almost certainly  _ not  _ okay with that, but he supposed that he didn’t have much of a choice, if he wanted to sleep tonight. “I suppose…”

“Good!” Newt drew his coin purse, and began to count out the rent. “Which room?”

“First on your left.”

“Fantastic. Hermann, do you want to-”

Hermann didn’t need to be asked twice - using his staff for balance, he wearily made his way into the room. It was not a large room - the bed took up most of the space, with a chest of drawers to its left, and a table and chair set to the right of the door. A pile of furs lay both on top of the bed and at its foot, topped with a ratty bearskin that Hermann immediately consigned to the “never touching his body” section of his brain, and the room was suffused with a soft glow from the candles on the bedside cabinets. The bed itself was far narrower that Hermann would’ve liked, and he sighed, resigning himself to sleeping as close to the edge of the bed as possible. At least they’d be wearing clothes.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” Newt remarked, evidently having finished boring the barman to death. “Bit small mind-”

“Mmm” Hermann set his staff to the side so he could begin stripping for bed. “‘l’ll be turning in early tonight, I think.”

“Oh, of course.” Newt turned around, and closed the door. “I’ll sleep on the side near the door, just in case someone comes for you in the night.”

Hermann was half-tempted to argue that he could fight  _ perfectly  _ well, thank you very much, but he was in no mood for a fight. Instead, he took off his armour and folded it into a neat pile by his bed, until only his undersuit remained, which would be more than comfortable to sleep in. With a yawn, he stretched, and turned to settle on the bed - only to be faced with an eyefull of scaly, Argonian backside.

“Do you not have-  _ nightclothes? _ ” Hermann asked, voice strangled. From his vantage point, he saw Newt’s back shrugged.

“Us Argonians keep all our parts tucked up inside. We don’t need them.” He turned around, and eyed Hermann’s undersuit. “You can keep yours on though. I don’t mind.”

“ _ Mind _ \- I-” Hermann crossed his arms around himself. “Can you not look at me like that? It’s creepy.”

“You’ve still got  _ clothes _ on- how is that- You know what, I don’t care. Fine.” Newt turned and began peeling off his upper armour and undershirt. Hermann did not mean to look, and pointedly made sure not to look, but there was no mistaking Newt throwing his shirt at his head. The shirt landed perfectly on his head, and he spluttered, turning to the now shirtless Newt to tell him how  _ childish  _ that was- 

And he saw two thin scars lie across his chest.

Newt saw him looking. “Now who's being creepy?” he joked, but Hermann had learnt enough body language to know Newt was… expecting something bad. 

“You’re…” he began, indicating what his words couldn’t.

“Yeah, I’m uh… I’m Changed.” He scratched his head feathers sheepishly. “Look, if you’re going to be weird about it-”

“I’m not, I just-” Hermann hesitated, before undoing the top buttons of his undersuit, showing Newt the matching scars across his chest, smaller but still recognizable. “Me too. I wasn’t- I’m not fully Changed, I only wanted to change up top-”

“You still count.” Newt grinned. “Awesome, now we don’t have to be weird about it. Who did yours?”

“Galathil - the Face Sculptor?”

“Man, same! Your scars are so small though - bet Galathil made mine bigger by asking for everything changed at once-”

“I did  _ not _ need to know that-”

“Get your head out of the gutter, Hermann, not  _ that  _ way. I had most of my colours done at the same time-”

“ _ What? _ ”

“Yeah, like these blue lines on my cheeks, and my neck-”

“Are you- are you  _ honestly _ saying that you  _ made  _ yourself look like a dragon?”

“Uh, yeah?” Newt chanced a look at Hermann’s face, and started at the look of sheer horror Hermann was giving him. “Hermann, are you-”

“How much of your colours are added?”

“Oh man, is this really what you’re going to freak out over-”

“ _ How much _ ?”

“Like, all of them?”

There was a pregnant pause.

“Divines help me.” Hermann finally said, with a growing sense of dread. “I’m rooming with a  _ dragon groupie _ .”

The rest of the evening went much in the same vein. As they prepared for bed, they bickered over pretty much  _ everything  _ \- over dinner, over tastes in ale and mead, over dragons and numbers… and when they did find something they agreed on, they would impart all their knowledge onto each other until they found something they disagreed on. Hermann was certain that he hadn’t spoken to someone this much in his life, especially not someone who  _ got  _ how he wanted to communicate, but the fact that it had to be  _ this  _ man, this irritating, inconceivable,  _ impossible  _ man, made him feel like some Divine above was having a joke at his expense.

The night was not much better - despite the warm day, the clear skies meant the heat quickly dissipated quickly, and by the time he turned in for the night, he was already feeling the chill. They’d already split the bed furs, Hermann very magnanimously giving Newt the thicker ones on account of his Argonian blood type, and as a result Newt was drifting off once Hermann got into his side of the bed and pulled the furs up over his body, with the ratty bearskin he so hated kicked to the bottom of the bed. But even they were not enough - Hermann drifted in and out of chilly consciousness, often waking himself up with his own shivers. 

“Hermann, you’re shivering.” Newt murmured to him after sometime of this. “It’s shaking the bed.”

“Well, it’s  _ cold,  _ if you haven’t realised.” Hermann shot back in a hissed whisper.

“It’s not that cold-”

“You probably can’t feel it with that thick hide of yours, but believe me it is  _ freezing _ .”

“Well, there’s a spare bear hide at the end of the bed-”

“I am not touching that thing!”

“It’s  _ warm- _ ”

“I don’t care,  _ I’m not touching it _ -”

“Oh, for the love of-” Hermann felt the bed shift, before he found himself being pulled across the bed. There was suddenly heat - glorious, lovely heat that warmed him through from tip to toe. Newt’s reptilian muzzle butted lightly at the curve of his neck, his arms loosely crossed against his back and his clawed feet grazed the back of Hermann’s long legs. Hermann felt his face burn.

“What are you  _ doing? _ ” he hissed, squirming.

“Sharing heat.” Newt replied. “Stop moving.”

“What,  _ no _ \- this is highly inappropriate-!”

“And me allowing you to freeze to death is-”

“I’m hardly going to freeze to death-”

“You’ll be surprised how quickly rattles will set in once you’re cold enough-”

“I’m not going to get  _ rattles  _ from being cold- move  _ back _ -”

“You will, I’ve been around long enough to know that. It’s either me or the bearskin.”

“I’ll take  _ neither. _ ” Hermann growled. He rolled away from Newt with a surprising amount of force, ending back on his side of the bed. The sudden change of temperature from comfortably warm back to freezing took Hermann by surprise, and he couldn’t help a sharp intake of breath. It wasn’t long before he began shivering again - he peered at the bearskin that sat innocuously at the end of the bed, but it looked just as unappealing as the first time he saw it. He rolled back over into Newt’s side.

“Don’t say a  _ word _ .” he growled. He felt Newt’s chest rise as he snorted, but for once he didn’t say anything. Despite Hermann’s embarrassment, he somehow managed to drift off to sleep, lulled by the warmth and Newt’s slow, steady breathing.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning did not go well. Hermann awoke to find himself with an armful of Newt’s tail, and after managing to disengage from it, he found out that it was rather a cold and wet morning, and he wished he were back in bed, even with Newt’s prehensile tail swinging about. But he had a routine, and hated to deviate, and after he’d done his business, splashed his face with water and written down what needed to be organized that day, Newt was already stirring. 

“Issit mornin’?” Newt yawned, his jaw cracking open and showing of his rows of sharp teeth. 

“Late morning, yes.” Hermann replied, reaching for his armour. “We’ll need to leave soon.”

Newt groaned, and buried himself back in the furs, and within minutes was lightly sleeping again. Secretly, Hermann was a touch jealous, but in the physical world he poked and prodded Newt with the blunt end of his staff until he rolled out of bed and began to dress too. Only then did Hermann leave him be and order them both breakfast of mead, apples and warm buttered bread.

By the time Hermann had saddled up, they were bickering again. Hermann wasn’t certain what had started it - maybe it was over the best mead, or the fact that Newt insisted they buy sweet rolls for breakfast too -  but they were at it anyway, first bickering about something inconsequential, then bickering about the history of the large ornate stone bridge they crossed, then bickering about dragons, then bickering about Newt’s need to spend an hour examining the bridge...

They were too busy bickering to notice the first arrow fly by their heads. But they notice the second, and the third, and definitely the one that landed on the flank of Hermann’s horse. Newt was the first to find their attacker - he pointed up at the ridge above at a shadowy figure, with a bow pointed in their direction.

“Forsworn! Get close to the wall!”

They pressed themselves up under the ridge as the assailant above, Hermann and the horse up against the rocks and Newt against the horse’s flank.

“ _ Kaoc _ ,” Newt swore as another arrow landed close to his foot. “ _ Kaoc, kaoc, kaoc,  _ I didn’t expect them to be this close to the road- _ ” _

“We need to take them out,” Hermann said grimly. “or they’ll kill us both.”

“Right, right.  _ Xhuth,  _ I’m the guard, I should do this-” He squared himself up with a strength he didn’t truly feel. “Hermann, you stay here, I’ll climb the cliff on this side and surprise them-”

“Newt, what- no! That’s far too steep, you can’t-” Newt could barely hear Hermann’s voice as he clambered up the steep slope onto the ridge. Their attacker barely noticed him climb up the wall, but definitely noticed the dagger in her side. She howled and swung round, her bow clattering to the floor as she withdrew a dagger from her belt, but Newt was too fast, and had her down in seconds. But Newt had barely enough time to breathe before a makeshift sword whizzed past his ear - another Forsworn, face covered with a deer pelt hood, was attacking him from behind. It became very clear as he turned around that he wasn’t going to win this fight, he was dual wielding  _ swords _ , and he was moving far too fast, and Newt stumbled and fell onto his back as the man advanced-

There as a dull thud, and Newt stared as the man above him let out a harsh gasp, one of his swords driving itself into the dirt beside his head. The man rolled off him with a growl, pulling his sword from the ground and scratching Newt’s face with the sharp edge. He turned to face Newt’s saviour and froze - Hermann had leapt over the camp’s fence on the back of his horse, his bow drawn and aimed square at the man’s heart. The second arrow would’ve hit it too had the man not dived to the side - instead, it went through his shoulder, wounding him badly instead of fatally. With a flash of purple light, Hermann summoned a Dremora for another attack, but the Forsworn attacker was getting up and was ready for him this time-

As Hermann’s Dremora rose their sword to finish the guy off, the attacker struck out with one of his swords. The blade sliced into the side of Hermann’s horse just as the Dremora’s sword drove itself into the Forsworn’s head. The weight of the man’s body pulled the blade down through the horse’s flank, and with a horrific scream the horse went down, pulling Hermann down with it-

“Hermann!”

The horse landed dead on the ground, Hermann’s supplies got thrown across the camp, the staff strapped to its side snapped and ricocheted into the undergrowth, but Hermann had managed to untangle his legs from the saddle and roll off before the horse went down, landing shaken but unhurt on the grass beside it. Newt was by his side in seconds.

“Hermann, are you alright? That was amazing! Are you hurt, did you-” 

“Newt, I am fine.”

“You’re  _ fine?  _ You just fell of a horse after doing the most  _ badass  _ rescue thing I’ve ever seen-”

“Excuse me?”

“What you did, just now! The whole riding in on a horse, toting a bow and saving my sorry ass, that was  _ amazing!” _

“You didn’t think I could fight?”

“Normally when people hire a guard, it’s because they’re terrible at fighting.” Newt rubbed his crest of feathers sheepishly. “But that- that was more than “I can fight”! That was like- like soldier fighting!”

“Well, I was taught by the Captain of the Imperial Guard…” Hermann looked away, flushed and pleased with Newt’s enthusiasm for once. Newt grinned at him. 

“It was amazing. Amazing! Like, I have no idea why your dad thought you needed me around-”

The small smile that twisted Hermann’s lips dropped suddenly. Newt didn’t notice at first, continuing to ramble on about bows and arrows and  _ is that bow glass cause those are fantastic  _ but as he went on and Hermann remained silent, even he realised that something was wrong.

“Hermann? Hermann, you’re really quiet, are you-”

“I’m fine.”

“Ok, but you’re definitely not. Am I doing that thing again where I talk too much-?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, okay. Shutting up now- wait, do you want me to get out of your face for a minute?”

Hermann didn’t reply.

“Okay, okay. I’ll… I’ll just move those bodies, and the horse. Get them away from us, y’know?”

Newt walked away, and Hermann took a deep breath and exhaled. Newt didn’t know, hadn’t realized… Hermann sent a prayer to the Divines above for letting his father forget to “warn” anyone who came to see him. 

“Newt,” he said, when Newt returned from dragging the horse into a nearby bush. 

“Yeah?” Newt came to sit beside him, wiping his hands on the side of his tunic to get rid of the grit on his hands.

“My father… he didn’t tell you why I ride by horse, did he?”

“There’s a reason? I just thought it was because you were rich enough to afford it.” Newt looked at him oddly. “Is it important? I mean, if it’s personal, you don’t have to give me details-”

“It’s… it’ll affect our route. See-” Hermann sighed, and his hand came to rest on his hip. “I... can't walk far without balance. Chronic rockjoint, in my hips. I contracted it as a child in Cyrodiil.”

"But... rockjoint is curable. Your parents didn't take you to the temple?"

"They did. The kind I have isn't curable."

“That sucks, man. You've had it all your life?” Newt fixated on his face. Hermann looked away to avoid his gaze.

“Since I was six - I… contracted the disease doing something I shouldn’t have been doing-”

“You, a rebel? Never would’ve guessed.”

“Hush, you detestable boy.” There was no malice in his tone, just a bone tired weariness. “I was treated for it once my parents found out, but the damage had already been done. This is the reason I ride, and this… this is also the reason my father wanted you to escort me.”

Newt cottoned on to what he wasn’t saying. “Your father doesn’t believe you can protect yourself?”

“He’s right. I cannot walk for long distances without the support my staff - if it snaps, like it did just now, I’m useless on my own. If that Forsworn had killed my horse any earlier we would’ve both been dead.” 

“He’s wrong. You would’ve totally stabbed that guy’s eye out if you had to-”

“And then remained a sitting skeever for the next load of Forsworn to get me.”

“Well, maybe. But needing help isn’t such a bad thing-”

“You have no idea what it’s like to be dependant-!”

“You sure about that, Hermann?” The anger in Hermann’s voice faded, and he looked ashamed. He opened his mouth, and closed it without a word, then opened it again.

“Newt, I-”

“It’s fine. Forget it.”

“It’s… No, it’s not. I... misspoke.”

“I get it a lot, don’t worry-”

“That doesn’t excuse it. You don’t have to tell me, but I- I should not have assumed.”

“Alright. Apology accepted.” Newt shifted a little. “Back to you - what do you need? How are we going to travel? I’m guessing carrying is a no-”

“Carry me and I will drive an arrow through your neck.”

“Okay, okay! No carrying. We can probably fashion a cane or something out of one of these branches - is your other hip-”

“It’s not as bad. I can walk on it, on clear days.”

“Then a cane will be good in the short term. We can head back to Dragon Bridge, send a courier to fetch a new horse from Solitude-”

Hermann’s reaction was instant. “No!”

Newt blinked, and peered at him curiously. “Hermann, you need a horse-”

“I… not from Solitude. Please, I don’t want my father knowing. We’re… not on good terms at the moment.”

“Then, what will we do?”

Hermann hesitated. “I… have a few things we can sell. We’ll be able to buy new one - Markarth is nearby.”

Newt nodded slowly. “That’ll be good - we can pick up supplies there too. Do you take any potions?”

“I have enough to get me to Markarth, I think. I’m not sure-” He broke off, but Newt understood.

“If you give me a bottle, I can see if I can make something similar.”

“I… that would be… good. Thank you.” Newt nodded, before getting up onto his feet.

“I guess we’re staying here for the night then,” he said, picking up his satchel. “I’ll go see if I can find a good branch - can you check out the tents? Might be something useful in there-”

Hermann gave him a thankful nod. Newt headed out into the woods, and Hermann busied himself with the tents in merciful silence.  



	5. Chapter 5

It was not to last - the night was spent bickering over the different ways of building the cane. They had fought over the best kind of wood, over the shape of the base, even the best way to wrap the handle. Over dinner, Newt had made his first attempts at identifying Hermann’s potions, and that had triggered yet another debate over whether the flavour could be improved or not, and which flavour was the best. As night fell, the temperature dropped, and Newt insisted on at least sharing a tent, if not a bedroll, which Hermann objected to on proprietary grounds but didn’t really have a leg to stand on given that they were probably the only living beings for miles around. But even so, Hermann thought as lay beside Newt, he couldn’t help but feel they had bonded, in some miniscule, never-admit-on-pain-of-death kind of way.

They started out late the next morning, but Hermann still had to half-drag a still sleepy Newt out of his bedroll and enroute to Markarth. Newt was evidently not a morning person, given that Hermann was easily outpacing him even with his leg. But as the sun rose higher in the sky, and their breakfast of apples, juniper berries and bread settled in their stomachs, Newt gradually became more awake, and by midday he was back to his normal peppy self, even managing to convince Hermann to go off the road in search of some hard-to-reach plants. Secretly, Hermann had kind of missed Newt’s chatter that morning, but even so it was better tuned out than tuned in.

“It’s a problem around these parts,” Newt was saying as they stopped by the side of the path again to pick some other plant Hermann had no wish in knowing its identity. “Not enough flora diversity. You can’t make many potions with this kind of stuff without ridiculous side effects-”

“That is why merchants exist, Newt.”

“Well,  _ yes _ , but so many merchants don’t hire alchemists or hunters to gather, so they cut things wrong and leave the best bits behind- Oh hey!” Newt raised a hand to his eyes and peered across the river. Hermann followed his gaze, and saw what he was looking at - three shadowy figures at the end of the road. 

“Hmm. Other travelers.” he commented, shifting a little on his cane. Newt smiled.

“Other travelers! Maybe I can trade some of these ingredients with them-” 

He suddenly cut himself off. Hermann watched as his face went through a myriad of expressions - recognition, surprise, then something sitting between anger and fear that Hermann couldn’t name. Newt looked left and right, before his eyes settled on a small crevice in the rock, and he began pulling Hermann towards it.

“Come on, Hermann, I think there’s Blisterwort in that cave-”

“Newt, I don’t- what-”

“In we go, let’s go now-”

_ “Stop pushing me-” _

He continued to complain as Newt shepherded him into the crevice and out of sight of the road. The cave was dank, dark and wet - three things that Hermann could not stand. He rounded on Newt as soon as he’d taken account of the place.

“Newt-of-Nine-Tails, what on  _ Tamriel- _ ”

“Shush!” Newt pushed him closer to the damp wall and covered his mouth with his hand. Hermann heard the footsteps of the approaching travellers, and shifted a little. The feeling of wet rock against his back was hell, but Newt’s reaction to the travelers convinced him to stay in position.

_ “...teach them not to take things that don't belong to them..." _

_ “...we’ll teach them a lesson…” _

The voices came closer, and then faded away into the distance, along with the clank of their heavy metal armour. Hermann waited a minute, before roughly pushing Newt away from him, attempting to separate his skin from his now wet tunic.

“Newt, who-?”

“Hired thugs.” Newt replied grimly, straightening his own armour. “Who knows who they were heading for, but I didn’t want to tangle with them if it was us.”

“Why, have you done something that would cause someone to hire thugs?”

“Nothimg! I’ve done nothing!” That was clearly a lie, and Hermann’s eyebrows rose to near his hairline. “I don’t know Hermann, maybe some people would just like to take  _ you  _ out-”

“So it’s  _ my  _ fault-”

“What, no! Hermann, why are you so  _ touchy  _ all of a sudden-?”

“You shoved me against a wet and cold wall- I don’t  _ like  _ being wet, Newt-of-Nine-Tails!”

“Well I needed you to- uh.” Newt was suddenly very fixated on something deeper in the cave.

“‘Uh’? That’s very descriptive-”

“ _ Uh.” _

“Will you stop that-”

“ _ Uh!”  _

_ “What?!”  _ Hermann followed Newt’s petrified eyes and saw exactly  _ what _ . Sixteen pairs of eyes stared out at them from the gloom, and from the clicking and shuffling he heard, he could guess exactly what they were.

“Spiders.” he whispered to himself. Newt ‘uh’d in response, his shaking hands moving to his hips and gripping his daggers in a knuckle-white hold. Hermann carefully withdrew his bow from his back and sheathed an arrow. The spiders creeped closer to them.

“Uh, you know that whole thing about not carrying you on pain of death?” Newt asked, inching his way closer to Hermann. “Does it still apply? Because I am all for picking you up and getting the  _ hell _ out of here-”

“It still stands.” Hermann drew back his bow and took aim at the slowly approaching mass of spiders. “We’ll have to kill them. If you want to leave-”

“There is no way I’m leaving you on your own!”

“Then get ready-” Hermann released his arrow, and it struck the first spider dead. The mass swarmed angrily, and suddenly they were moving at an angry march towards them. Newt yelled and flew forward with his daggers, swinging them far more haphazardly than normal but still managing to strike down a spider on his own. Hermann took aim and injured another, but they still advanced on him, clambering over their dead comrades and forcing him backwards onto the ground. He summoned a flame atronach, but they were too close, their forelegs and pincers quivering in anticipation-

“Hragh!” Newt jabbed the injured spider with one of his daggers, but he misjudged his own strength - he sliced straight through the spider’s body and into the ground below, cutting Hermann’s leg in the process. Hermann felt the sting, but was too busy attempting to conjure flames to be bothered by it.

“Hermann, I-” Newt’s voice was clearly shaken, and even in the dim cave Hermann could see how pale his face was. He growled.

“Newt, there’s one left, come on-!”

The last spider clambered on top of them, but at the last moment Newt turned and thrust his dagger blindly into their underbelly. Hermann turned and stabbed his arrow through their back - the spider gave one last shudder before they sunk to their many knees and collapsed onto one side. Newt kicked the body off them, before turning to Hermann with an apology in his eyes.

“Hermann-”

“Don’t.”

“I-”

“It was a mistake - it’s no deeper than a parchment cut.”

“But-”

“ _ Don’t. _ ” Newt shut his mouth. Then opened it again.

“Do you want a potion for that?”

Hermann paused, then nodded. The cut really wasn’t that deep, but Newt seemed to take some sort of forgiveness from the action of dampening a rag with healing potion and dabbing it carefully across the thin wound. The cave was silent with the exception of their breathing and the quiet scrape of the rag on congealed blood. Newt did not look up at Hermann the entire time he did this, entirely focused on his work in a way that Hermann would’ve admired had he not had some idea of the guilt Newt must’ve been feeling. He instead watched quietly as Newt balled up the dirtied rag and threw it into a spare corner, and checked out the cut, which was now a thin white line across Hermann’s calf.

“Man, I’m shit at this.” Hermann started at the sudden loudness of Newt’s voice. He looked down - Newt was staring at his calf intently, as if it held the solution to his problems.

“My leg is perfect.” Hermann replied, a little confused.

“Nah, not that. This. This whole situation.” Newt waved his arms around to indicate… well, to indicate  _ something _ , Hermann wasn’t entirely sure what.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m supposed to be  _ protecting  _ you, and I’ve already lead you into a Forsworn camp, frozen in front of spiders, and now I’ve hurt you properly.” He sighed. “When we get to Markarth, I swear I’ll find you a better guard-”

Hermann’s blood ran cold. There was no way he was going to go with someone new now - sure Newt could be absolutely irritating at times, but the idea of meeting someone new, having to socialize and deal with their habits and their almost certain attempts to “help” him when it was unwarranted.

“No.” He said simply, cutting across Newt’s self-depreciating rambling. “I’m not going with anyone else.”

“But-”

“No.” Hermann straightened himself up as much as he could. “Newt-of-Nine-Tails, if we are going to fight over this, can you at least help me up so we can leave this cave? It’s getting to the both of us, and I don’t want another spider interrupting.”

Newt looked as if he was about to argue, but his apparent fear of the spider’s friends coming to get them seemed to temper his argumentative spirit, and he nodded. He wrapped his arm around Hermann’s waist and pulled him to his feet before handing him his cane, which had been thrown near the entrance during the fight. They stumbled out of the cave as a pair, and Hermann led  them to a grassy embankment where they could sit down. Even just from walking those few steps out of the cave, Hermann could see Newt looked a lot better, less pale and his hands were now shaking a soft tremor rather than the violent spasms of earlier.

“Newt, you will not find me another guard. That is final.”

“But don’t you want someone who doesn’t keep nearly killing you?”

“Those things might have happened even if I was with someone else - we may have been attacked by those thugs had you not been there.”

“Still-”

“No. Your guilt is… misplaced.” Hermann paused. “If it helps, I forgive you.”

“That doesn’t help.” But Hermann could see that Newt had calmed a little at his words, shoulders untensing just that little bit, and knew it was just Newt’s natural belligerence in his words.

“Still. Even if it wasn’t true… I don’t want a guard. I don’t need someone who can sweep in and save me from harm like some damsel-”

Newt snorted. “Now I’m imagining you in a pretty circlet-”

Hermann elbowed him in the side. “Hush.”

“You’d look great in one, I won’t lie-” 

“Pay attention, you. Listen, I don’t need a guard, and I certainly don’t want one.”

“Then why am I still here?”

“What I need is a… a guide. Someone who does not treat me like a broken child, and allows me to defend myself sometimes. Fights with me as an equal. Helps me only when I need it.” He hesitated. “I suspect that is something you need as well.”

Newt was silent for some time. “I… tend not to recognize danger very well.” he said, finally. “I get scared, sure, but that’s only when I’m  _ in  _ the situation. I don’t travel alone often cause it doesn’t tend to end well. And now I’m supposed to look out for you as well as myself-” He broke off, and looked at his feet. Feeling just a little sorry for the man, Hermann reached out and covered his hand with his own. 

“How about this,” he murmured. “We go forth as equals.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, no more ‘guard and guarded’. We look out for each other when we can, and act to our strengths. I shoot any spiders, you make sure I don’t eat anything poisonous, for example.”

Newt laughed a little. “That sounds… better. Are you certain?”

“Positive.” He gave Newt’s hand a small squeeze, and Newt smiled, much more relaxed than he’d been all trip. 


	6. Chapter 6

The rest of the trip to Markarth was largely uneventful following their run in with the thugs. They travelled a lot slower due to Hermann’s leg, but Newt didn’t seem to mind, taking the extra time to dart off the road and collect alchemy ingredients and other plants. Following their discussion, Newt was now more relaxed and seemed much happier, as was Hermann - although they still fought a lot, their bickering lost its stressed, bitter edge. In fact, Hermann would’ve gone so far as to say that they were tentative friends now - or at least, companions in adversity. Now they understood each other a little better, Newt had begun to grow on him somewhat, and he didn’t mind so much when Newt’s tail (and sometimes his body) ended up wound around his waist in the mornings.

They spent their first night in Rorikstead, a quiet little hamlet town that seemed to be harbouring some secrets of its own. The second day, Hermann’s leg was playing up, and so they stayed for a second night - Newt amused himself by going to visit the nearby dragon burial mound, whilst Hermann spent some time writing letters. The third saw them heading through to Karthwasten, with Hermann skillfully talking their way out of any involvement of the business feud going on there. 

The fourth day was the hardest on Hermann - the steep uphill climb from Karthwasten to Markarth was… difficult, to say the least. The stress of the climb and his own exhaustion from the pain made him both short-tempered and mute, and any attempt Newt made to engage him in conversation or convince him to rest was met with stony silence. Newt eventually got the hint that he could not handle conversation right now, and quietened somewhat, though still attempted to convince him that they had time to break. It was only when they were crossing the last bridge before Markarth that Newt sat down on the banks of the river and refused to move until Hermann sat down with him and at least cooled off his feet in the river.

Although their legs were not long enough to touch the river water, the spray from the rapids was more than enough to bring Hermann down off the edge of sensory overload. The cool water, only slightly warmed by the morning sunlight, was heaven on his burning feet, and although he still wasn’t up to speaking, he guessed Newt could tell his pleasant humming meant he was in a better mood.

“Water’s good. Calms you down. Well, calms me down at least- makes things feel better…” Newt babbled away as they toed at the froth on the river’s surface, clearly much happier now Hermann was calmer. His hands fiddled with a small soul gem shard - Hermann wasn’t certain where he’d found it, but it kept his hands occupied so he left it. Only half listening to Newt, he stared out across Skyrim’s landscape, quietly following each moving dot below them with a lazy kind of interest, more interested in watching them move than in where they were going-

“You know Hermann, we should bathe.” 

Had his mouth been working, Hermann would’ve shut down that idea immediately - they were less than a few footfalls away from Markarth main gate, even closer to the road, he was  _ not  _ stripping off here, the sky was cloudy, it was  _ cold _ … He settled on what he hoped for an aghast look.

“Don’t give me that look, Hermann - I don’t mean like  _ right now _ , but there’s a spot near here we could go, wash our clothes…”

Hermann considered it for a moment. On the one hand, his armour  _ was  _ looking scuffed, and he could feel the crust of exertion forming on parts of his skin, itchy and dry… but even so, the thought of being submerged in river water made his skin crawl. As a child, Mother and Father used to have to lock him in the washroom and refuse to let him out until he got into the bath - being in water and being wet were two things he could never stand at the same time.

There was a nudge at his elbow - Newt was patiently holding a piece of parchment and a nub of charcoal. Hermann took them with a small smile, and wrote down what he was thinking.

“Oh hey,” Newt commented, peering over his shoulder to read. “We can handle that - Markarth will have linen wraps, won’t they? You can just use that - wash yourself on the riverbank or something.”

Hermann wrote on the parchment;  _ Out in the open? _

“Nah, trust me - it’s private. Dad and Illia and me used to go there to wash, before we went up to the Old temple-”

_ Old temple? You follow Talos too? _

“Yeah- wait, you too?” Newt looked at him in surprise. “I didn’t know- I usually have a nose for this sort of thing but an Imperial-”

_ I’ve never actively practiced. My family was... more concerned with mortal affairs than the divines. And Father couldn’t be open about it with the Thalmor sniffing about.  _

“That’s… that’s understandable.” Newt chewed on his bottom lip. “Did you ever… want to be more involved?”

_ More than anything _ . He paused, charcoal hovering over the paper.  _ I visited the Old temple to celebrate Tibedetha once - I accompanied a Legate there. My father only suspected I had gone, but he made certain that I could never go again. _

“That’s… that’s  _ harsh _ , man.”

_ Father never did like crossing the Thalmor. _

“That’s no excuse. You’re of age, you should be able to do what you like. Here-” Newt put down his soul gem shard, and struggled with something around his neck. He unwound it eventually and held it out. It was an amulet Hermann recognised - a green-tinged charm shaped like the head of a battleaxe, threaded on black leather.

“An Amulet of Talos.” Newt said rather proudly, leaning forward to tie it around Hermann’s. “You have it - I figure you need it more than I do.”

He leant back, and Hermann reached up to finger the metal pendant, too full of gratitude and awe to say or write anything. He smiled at Newt, who grinned back, and somewhere in the back of his throat there was a distinctively happy hum forming there, and honestly in this moment Newt was the most beautiful person to him and he felt, he felt-

“You know, it’s like two days until the start Tibedetha. We should stay in Markarth for a bit, and go to the Old temple.”

The bottom dropped out of Hermann’s stomach. He grabbed the charcoal once more and scribbled furiously on the parchment

_ Newt, when I said Father made sure I couldn’t go, I didn’t mean he made me promise not to go. He organized Thalmor patrols in Markarth to increase on Tibedetha - they’ll recognize me immediately. _

“Then we’ll hide you. It can’t be too hard to find disguises around here… Come on, we’ll get you your horse, and then we’ll see what we can find.”

Hermann was about to protest again, but Newt had pocketed his soul gem shard and had stood up, offering a hand to him with a slight smile.

“Come on.” he said. “It’ll be fine.”

Hermann gave him a look, but with a long suffering sigh he packed his charcoal and his parchment away, and tucked the amulet underneath his armour. But as soon as he took Newt’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled up, a deafening roar sounded across the valley. There was suddenly sound, so much sound, of guards racing across the walls of Markarth, of heavy wing flaps and thundering roars, the ping and the swish of weapons being drawn and arrows being fired. Hermann didn’t even have to turn around to know what was there.

_ “Dragon!” _


	7. Chapter 7

“Hermann, we’ve got to move, come  _ on _ -!”

Hermann was hardly aware of Newt half carrying, half dragging him into the mouth of a nearby mineshaft. His heart felt like it had stopped beating as soon as the shadow came overhead, and it hadn’t restarted yet. All he could do was hold onto Newt tightly and watch as the dragon landed heavily on the ground, spraying flames up against Markarth’s battlements. The guards circled it immediately, but they couldn’t even get close - the dragon’s tail took care of those behind, and their snapping jaws took care of those bold enough to go for the head.

Hermann felt himself pull out his bow and take aim, firing an arrow into the backside of the beast. Newt muttered “good shot” in his ear, but the victory was short lived - the dragon turned its attention to the mine. In the nick of time, Newt shoved the both of them up against the wall to avoid the spray of fire that shot down the mine entrance. Hermann took aim again, but before he could let the arrow go, there was a war cry from the path that Newt and Hermann had just been sat near. 

“ _ For the Blades! _ ”

The dragon turned, took one look at the newcomers and took off into the air,  growling all the while. Newt heard a muffled swear, before the newcomers, both dressed in some kind of scaled armour, darted into the mine. 

“ _ Shit _ .” one of them said - a tall, white Nord, blond and broad, with a giant greatsword strapped to his back. “Mako, will the guards-”

“No,” his companion replied - she looked to be Nordic too, but was darker, with black hair and blue war paint covering her almond-shaped eyes, and two fistfuls of storm magic crackled near her hips. “Raleigh, they’ve only got iron arrows- Ontalzii, the dragon, she’s too strong for them-”

“Damn! Why did she have to fly off the minute we got here-”

“She recognized you.” Newt interrupted. “You’re Blades, right? Dragon hunters? She must’ve recognized that you can only fight from the ground, and took off-”

“They can’t do that.” Raleigh shook his head. “They’re mindless beasts, they can’t have that level of higher thought-”

“First of all, I’ve got to tell you how absolutely  _ wrong  _ you are-”

“Now is not the time, Newt-of Nine-Tails.” Hermann finally got his mouth to move the way he wanted it to, although it took a lot of effort. “Will steel arrows be strong enough?”

“Yes - you have some?” Mako asked, looking tentatively hopeful.

“Not enough to go around the guards-”

“They might not be enough to take it down then-”

“What about poison? Hermann, try this-” Newt removed a jar of something from his backpack, and poured a little on the tip of Hermann’s arrows. “Poison - strongest I’ve got. Should take a chunk out of that dragon-”

Hermann nodded, before drawing the bow and taking aim. The responding below from the dragon was evidence enough that the poison laced arrow had struck its mark. Hermann’s mouth twisted into a proud little smile as Newt handed him another poisoned arrow. 

“Do you have enchants on your weapons?” Newt asked Mako and Raleigh, as Hermann took aim once more.

“Not mine.” Raleigh said

“Frost on one, shock on the other.” Mako replied, touching each of them in turn.

“Right. Hermann-” Newt fished out another bottle and painted Hermann’s arrows with it. “This should make them weaker to shock at least. If it doesn’t land with this, we’ll use a frost poison too-”

Another deafening roar blocked out whatever Newt was going to say - the dragon was getting closer and closer to the ground. The remaining guards, bolstered by the damage caused by the poisoned arrows, were firing volleys of arrows at a much faster rate. Those without bows were circling on the ground waiting for it to land, shaking their weapons in the air as if the dragon would feel threatened by them. One last frost poisoned arrow was all it took for the dragon to crash down into the river, and Mako and Raleigh were on it in a flash. Hermann and Newt watched as the two of them fought, moving almost in sync with each other as the dragon growled and snapped pathetically at their armour. With one last war cry, Raleigh leapt onto the beast’s head and drove his greatsword through her thrashing skull. Ontalzii gave a keening cry, before she fell down into the river, and stopped moving.

There was silence, before a resounding cheer went up from the battlements. As the guards clapped each other on the black and applauded, Newt and Hermann made their way down to the water’s edge. Mako and Raleigh stood there, side by side, staring down at the Ontalzii with weary looks on their faces.

“There goes Ontalzii. Once-Destroyer-of-Spirits.” They heard Raleigh comment as they approached. “It’s not hard to believe she was once the hardest dragons to fight back in the Old Days.”

“Hmm. She may have been out of practice - she stopped fighting soon before her death. With her strength though, you have to wonder why...” Mako turned to Hermann and Newt as they both approached. “You were right. She recognized us - we could tell when we fought her.”

“They’re not just mindless creatures.” Newt replied. “I’ve been telling everyone that- no one listens, they assume you’re a dragon groupie or something- and Hermann, don’t you say a thing-”

Hermann gave a smile, but was too bone tired to speak even if he wanted to. Mako gave a soft smile, and Raleigh snorted beside her.

“Who are you?” he asked. “You seem to know your way around dragons.”

“I’m Newt. Newt-Of-Nine-Tails. And this is Hermann Gottlieb.”

“The dragon researchers?” Mako’s face opened up into a broad smile. “I’ve read many of your books - almost all of our organization has.. We’re very thankful for your work. Yours especially, Mr Gottlieb - your dragon predictions have been very helpful, despite your father’s… misgivings about our organization.”

“He’s not his father.” Newt said, feeling the need to defend Hermann. “Definitely not. His father’s an arse- sorry Hermann, but he is- and Hermann’s not an arse. At least, not on his good days. And when he’s not talking to me-”

Hermann gave him a look that very clearly said  _ please shut up _ . Mako hid a smile behind her hands. 

“I didn’t mean to insinuate such a thing.” she said, attempting to placate Newt. “But thank you, the both of you. The enchants on my swords - I believe they’re your work, Mr Gottlieb. They’ve saved our backs many a time.”

Hermann gave her a warm, slightly embarrassed smile. 

“That’s Hermann for ‘thank you’.” Newt added. “Though speaking of dragons, may I…” He indicated to the dead dragon.

“If you wish,” Mako shrugged. “Though my father’s associates will be here soon to pick it up - please don’t take anything major.”

“I won’t, I won’t…” Newt skipped off to examine the dragon with the exuberance of an over-eager puppy. Hermann threw an exasperated look at his back, but in his haste to see the dragon, Newt missed it. He turned to the two Blades with a resigned look on his face.

“Is he always like this?” Raleigh asked, watching Newt flit around the dragon. Hermann took a moment to figure out how to speak once more.

“He… yes. It’s a… special interest of his.”

“And not yours?”

“I... rather the arithmancy behind their raising to their corporeal bodies.”

“You balance each other out.” Mako noted. “Like Shield-siblings, almost. Like me and Raleigh.”

“Without so much fighting, I hope.”

“You don’t live here?”

“No. I live in Solitude. Newt-of-Nine-Tails is my guide - my father wishes me to go to Falkreath.”

“I see.” She paused. “If you have time… we’re based in Helgen, only a few hours away from Falkreath. I think my father would like to meet you. Both of you.”

“I… that’s a kind invitation. If we have time-” Hermann’s words were interrupted by a shout from down by the dragon. He turned his head - Newt was waving at him, his head on the belly of the dragon.”

“She’s got a heartbeat!” Newt yelled, excitement and fear in his voice. “I can hear it, there’s something-”

“Her heart can’t be beating!” Raleigh yelled back. “We just killed her!”

“Well, I can hear it! Come down here, see for yourself-”

Raleigh gave Hermann an indescribable look, before jumping down and joining Newt by the dragon. Hermann and Mako watched from the river’s edge as Raleigh leaned his head down against the great dragon’s abdomen, and watched as his face changed from irritation to shock.

“He’s right.” Raleigh said disbelievingly. “She’s got a heart beat. Hold on-” He raised his greatsword up like a sacrificial dagger, ready to stab Ontalzii through the heart, but Newt grabbed his arm and pulled the sword down.

“Raleigh, that’s not going to help,  _ it’s not her heartbeat _ -”

“What do you mean, it’s not-”

What happened next was something out of Hermann’s worst nightmares. There was the sound of ripping flesh, and the water, pink-stained from Ontalzii’s blood, became a crimson flood. Raleigh shouted for everyone to get back, but Newt stumbled, the ankle straps of his shoes getting caught on something in the water. He could only watch as something moved and squirmed in Ontalzii’s body. There was more ripping sounds, more blood, before  _ something  _ dropped out of the dragon’s corpse with a wet plop.

“Is that…” Hermann murmured as the  _ thing _ carefully unwound themself.

“I guess we know why she stopped fighting now.” Mako replied equally as quiet. The  _ thing  _ in the water unfurled one wing, and then another, stretching them out, the tips nearly brushing Newt’s feet. It was a baby dragon, easily twice his height and thrice his weight. Her eyes were blue and curious, roving the crowd that had assembled a fair distance away from them, before settling on Newt. She blinked, innocently.

“Why is she not fighting?” Raleigh murmured, his greatsword drawn but shielding rather than threatening. “She should be fighting-”

“She’s a baby, Raleigh.” Newt replied. “Dragons have a hive-mind - I think Ontalzii died too early for this one to connect.”

The baby dragon took a few hesitant steps towards him, stumbling a little. Newt held out his hand like one would to an interested animal, only shaking a little despite the situation. Hermann’s heart was in his mouth as the dragonling nosed at Newt’s hand, before rubbing her forehead against Newt’s palm, rumbling like a contented cat. Newt gave a shaky laugh, petting the neck of the dragon as they settled next to him.

“I think we can train her.” he said to Raleigh, who’d resheathed his greatsword but was staying a respectful distance away. “She’s separated from the hive, so she doesn’t have that whole “kill everyone” thing going for her. She’s safe, right? She can be observed, we could learn so much-”

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.” Raleigh finally responded. He too approached the dragon and dropped down on his haunches to greet her. Perhaps sensing his nerves, the baby dragon only nosed his hand for a few seconds before turning back to Newt. “We’d need to find somewhere to hold them first. Maybe the Keep…”

“I’ll send a letter to Father.” Mako said, helping Hermann down into the riverbed so they too could investigate the dragon. Hermann looked in his bag, before withdrawing some chicken meat they’d picked up and offering it to the dragon, who snapped it up quite happily. 

“We can’t kill her.” Hermann said in reply. Raleigh nodded.

“Agreed. We’ll stay here with-” There was a sudden scuffle in the crowd, and some yelling. Newt turned to see a flash of magic, before there was a sudden blast and the rocks at the bottom of the river exploded in a haze of dirt and chipped rock. The dragonling yelped, crawling as close to Newt and the others as she could. Mako charged her storm magic and climbed up out of the river, the crowd scattering in her wake as she hunted for the culprit. There was another bolt of magic, this one hitting the ground above them. The force made Hermann lose the grip on his cane and he fell into Newt’s other side with a grunt. There was a lot of shouting now, but Newt could barely see from the dirt in his eyes. His blind hands patted around until he found the flank of the dragon-

“Go, go! Fly off, get out of here-” Newt gave the dragon’s flank a sharp slap, and she seemed to understand. With one last look at both of them, the baby dragon ran on all fours along the riverbed, before reaching the waterfall and launching themselves off it. For a brief moment, it seemed as if the dragonling would not be able to fly - she flailed in the air, but soon her wings caught the wind, and she glided along the river and out of sight.

“Where is it, where did it go-?!” Three elven men raced to the river’s edge, closely followed by Mako, magic drawn and pointing at them. They were all Altmer, that was clear - pale green skin and white-blond hair. They all wore uniform - long robes with militaristic lines across the front and polished bronze buttons at the cuffs and the neck. Raleigh stood up and turned to them.

“Thalmor.” He said, and his voice was cold. “This is our kill, you’re not to interfere - we had an agreement.”

“I’m sorry,” the mer replied, not sounding sorry at all. “You were trying to keep a dragon alive - that wasn’t agreed.”

“We don’t need you permission before deciding on how to handle a dragon.” Mako growled, her magic sparks getting incredibly close to the mer’s neck. The mer huffed.

“You stubborn fools, you were about to unleash a dragon on Skyrim based on the word of this- of this- of this  _ lizard man!  _ And you-” The mer turned to Hermann and pointed at him. “You’re going along with these people- I would’ve thought you would’ve known better given what you’re father believes-”

“You’re speaking to two of the most authoritative voices on dragons.” Raleigh warned them, drawing his own greatsword. “I’d show a little more respect.”  

The mer sputtered and stuttered, before getting a hold of himself and drawing up to his full height. His companions did the same. He glared at them all, before turning specifically to glare at Hermann.

“You’re father will hear about this.” he spat, before turning around and heading back into Markarth, his followers trailing behind him. The crowd around them finally began to disperse, chattering and muttering amongst themselves. Mako dropped back into the river to rejoin the group.

“We’ll find her.” she said, firmly. “I’ll convince Father to find a place for her to stay.”

“Thank you.” Newt quietly replied. The emotional rollercoaster of the past hour was starting to take its toll, and it was with the greatest effort that he managed to pull himself up out of the river water and help Hermann up, handing the other man his cane. Hermann looked just as tired as he felt. 

“Did she have a name?” Newt asked the Blades. “I don’t remember reading anything about her, did anyone know-?”

“No.” Mako shook her head. “No-one knew she was pregnant when she died. We’ll have to come up with a name…” They were silent for a minute, each lost in their own thoughts, until-

“Koekzii.” Hermann murmured quietly. “In-Her-Spirit.”


End file.
